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The Merry Men-Part34_ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON(1850-1894)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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used to lie in wait for the exact moment, watch in hand. 'There is



nothing like regularity,' he would say, fill out the doses, and

dilate on the virtues of the draught; and if the boy seemed none



the better, the Doctor was not at all the worse.

Gunpowder Day, the boy was particularly low. It was scowling,



squally weather. Huge broken companies of cloud sailed swiftly

overhead; raking gleams of sunlight swept the village, and were



followed by intervals of darkness and white, flying rain. At times

the wind lifted up its voice and bellowed. The trees were all



scourging themselves along the meadows, the last leaves flying like

dust.



The Doctor, between the boy and the weather, was in his element; he

had a theory to prove. He sat with his watch out and a barometer



in front of him, waiting for the squalls and noting their effect

upon the human pulse. 'For the true philosopher,' he remarked



delightedly, 'every fact in nature is a toy.' A letter came to

him; but, as its arrival coincided with the approach of another



gust, he merely crammed it into his pocket, gave the time to Jean-

Marie, and the next moment they were both counting their pulses as



if for a wager.

At nightfall the wind rose into a tempest. It besieged the hamlet,



apparently from every side, as if with batteries of cannon; the

houses shook and groaned; live coals were blown upon the floor.



The uproar and terror of the night kept people long awake, sitting

with pallid faces giving ear.



It was twelve before the Desprez family retired. By half-past one,

when the storm was already somewhat past its height, the Doctor was



awakened from a troubled slumber, and sat up. A noise still rang

in his ears, but whether of this world or the world of dreams he



was not certain. Another clap of wind followed. It was

accompanied by a sickeningmovement of the whole house, and in the



subsequent lull Desprez could hear the tiles pouring like a

cataract into the loft above his head. He plucked Anastasie bodily



out of bed.

'Run!' he cried, thrusting some wearing apparel into her hands;



'the house is falling! To the garden!'

She did not pause to be twice bidden; she was down the stair in an



instant. She had never before suspected herself of such activity.

The Doctor meanwhile, with the speed of a piece of pantomime



business, and undeterred by broken shins, proceeded to rout out

Jean-Marie, tore Aline from her virginslumbers, seized her by the



hand, and tumbled downstairs and into the garden, with the girl

tumbling behind him, still not half awake.



The fugitives rendezvous'd in the arbour by some common instinct.

Then came a bull's-eye flash of struggling moonshine, which



disclosed their four figures standing huddled from the wind in a

raffle of flying drapery, and not without a considerable need for



more. At the humiliating spectacle Anastasie clutched her

nightdress desperately about her and burst loudly into tears. The



Doctor flew to console her; but she elbowed him away. She

suspected everybody of being the general public, and thought the



darkness was alive with eyes.

Another gleam and another violent gust arrived together; the house



was seen to rock on its foundation, and, just as the light was once

more eclipsed, a crash which triumphed over the shouting of the



wind announced its fall, and for a moment the whole garden was

alive with skipping tiles and brickbats. One such missile grazed



the Doctor's ear; another descended on the bare foot of Aline, who

instantly made night hideous with her shrieks.



By this time the hamlet was alarmed, lights flashed from the

windows, hails reached the party, and the Doctor answered, nobly



contending against Aline and the tempest. But this prospect of

help only awakened Anastasie to a more active stage of terror.



'Henri, people will be coming,' she screamed in her husband's ear.

'I trust so,' he replied.



'They cannot. I would rather die,' she wailed.

'My dear,' said the Doctor reprovingly, 'you are excited. I gave



you some clothes. What have you done with them?'




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